


Don't Leave Me

by CosmicMind



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Angst, Arkham Asylum, I think about these two a lot pls let them be happy, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, other characters are mentioned but there's no point in tagging them so.....
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-21
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-08 17:02:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10391634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CosmicMind/pseuds/CosmicMind
Summary: Ed visits Oswald in Arkham.(Based off of the unaired/unfilmed hand touching scene after 02x13)





	

**Author's Note:**

> It's been about 4 years since I've written fanfiction of actual existing characters. My, how times have changed.
> 
> This fic is based off of a collab I did with my friend (which was inspired by the unfilmed scene), [which you should check out right here if you wanna support me n my friend](http://chibi-scribbles.tumblr.com/post/158336625986/please-ed-dont-leave-me-here-oswald-pleaded)

Loneliness, as Ed had discovered, was one of the most lethal threats to a person’s mental state with the softest touch and quietest approach. It seared worse than any flame, froze the heart quicker than the coldest of frozen tundras, and was more painful than the cut of any blade. And this was one blade than was cutting deep.

Ed should've been used to being alone by now. He had lived so many years being a socially awkward riddle guy who's only use is to examine bodies for the GCPD, who was, for a while, content with living by himself. In a way, there were benefits to living alone; less water and food costs, more hot water in the shower, and he could style his apartment to his liking (which was, obviously, neat and precise). Sure, that short period of time with Ms. Kringle was a surprisingly pleasant change in his routine, but before he knew it she was in the ground and Ed was alone again. Ed was always alone, and he was content with that reality.

But this loneliness was new, and who knew that none other than the criminal Oswald Cobblepot would be the one to limp in and ruin his routine.

It wasn't like Ed had a real problem with Oswald living with him in hiding (the opposite actually). Sure the random calls at work and him moping over his dead mom were a bit irritating, but most of the time it was pleasant. For the first several days Oswald just slept and slept in Ed’s bed, like he hasn't slept properly in years, partially due to his wounds and the rest due to stress and fatigue. Though soon enough Oswald opened up to Ed. They would eat dinner together and make small talk about anything and everything- Oswald even started enjoying Ed’s riddles. Ed even showed his guest his piano skills, and they even would sing a melody together while Ed played occasionally. Ed wondered if that's what being an old married couple felt like- forgetting that you were ever alone with someone you want to protect dearly.

But as soon as he came, Oswald was gone, and Ed felt it hard. Suddenly every little quirk in Ed’s routine Oswald did was significant, and he found himself missing those phone calls and picking up takeout for two. Ed tried to distract himself by reorganizing his filing cabinets at work, or do a deep cleaning of his furniture, yet whenever he tried to forget another reminder of Oswald’s presence was in front of him.

Ed hated his newfound loneliness.

\----

At precisely two o’clock, Ed signed in to the Arkham Asylum visiting center. Sitting at the desk was the same reception woman from last Thursday, who was overweight with way too much makeup and crinkly brown hair that would probably crack off if handled too much. She and Ed exchanged a quick look before she went back to looking at the computer screen.

“Name,” the receptionist asked in a way that she probably has said hundreds of times.

“Edward Nygma,” Ed replied stiffly.

“And who are you visiting today?”

“Oswald Cobblepot.”

“Hmph,” the receptionist huffed, then holding the walkie talkie from her cluttered desk closer to her mouth, “Visitor for patient B-113 is here.”

Ed sat down at one of the ancient plastic chairs as he waited. He regretted not bringing a book, but he was so anxious on utilizing the maximum amount of visiting time possible that he had been a bit unprepared. Very un-Nygma like. He considered reading one of the magazines left on the table, but they were all about sports and beauty and a year too outdated. So he settled on keeping to his thoughts, and counting the floor tiles to pass the time.

Soon enough, one of the Arkham guards (a heavily armed one at that) called him in and Ed nearly leapt up to go follow him through the metal door. The halls were still the same brownish-gray color as the waiting room, with tall windows and low lighting. It reeked of foreign and strange smells- most likely lots and lots of bleach to hide the odors of whatever went on in here.

“So how does a guy like you wanna visit some psycho murderer like him?” said the guard out of the blue.

‘Because I'm a, quote-on-quote, “psycho murderer” too,’ Ed thought with a tightened jaw.

“He's an old friend, and I have concern for his well-being and mental state,” Ed actually responded with, “Murderer or not, he is still a person.”

“Yeah, okay, but I wouldn't trust him so much. He's batshit crazy, trying to act all high n’ mighty around the other inmates. They say him being here isn't just keep Gotham safe, but himself safe too. If it were me, I would've thrown his ass on death row for what he did to the mayor and all his other victims.”

“If by ‘safe’ you mean behind bars and being treated like an animal.”

The guard gave a rotten look to Ed over his shoulder as they walked. “Watch it, son. He's got food, shelter, and protection. He's good. Don't go in here spouting about morality or some bullshit.”

“Does your employer allow you to speak like that to visitors? I'm sure he'd love to hear of you using that language to a humble visitor.”

“Watch. It.” The guard snapped. Ed figured if he said anything he'd make a scene, which is the last thing he wanted right now. So he kept quiet.

Though Ed really wished he could have taken this guy out behind the Asylum and given him the Dougherty treatment right about now.

Before the guard could piss him off any more, they had arrived at the visiting room. This room, with its row of two-sided booths and glass panels that were so clean they may as well not be there, made Arkham seem more like a prison than it already was. Ancient-looking phones with no dials or buttons were on both sides of the glass for communication, like two cans connected by a string, just with more wires. No one else was in there right now, as Ed was the first visitor of the day, besides burly guards at every corner of the rectangle room.

“He's at the far left booth,” the guard that let Ed in said gruffly, obviously still pissed about Ed back talking to him.

Ed walked over and nearly had to take a step back when he did. Oswald, his dear friend Oswald, more resembled a barely reanimated corpse than a person- his eyes and cheeks looked more sunken in, his skin paler than normal, and the fiery passion in his eyes gone. He sat at the chair on the other side slumped over in a lifeless manner, like he was giving up on living. His wrist was attached to a short chain connected to the wall for the time being.

However when Ed approached the booth, Oswald came back to life. His green eyes were already starting to tear up, but Ed knew that Oswald wouldn't let his tears escape in front of Ed. He gave a weary smile to his friend and fumbled to pick up the phone on his side, Ed doing the same as he sat down.

“E-Ed!” Oswald exclaimed, even though his voice was shaky, “Oh my friend, it's so good to see you again!”

“Hello to you too, Oswald,” Ed replied. He was using every ounce of his strength to seem composed, not matter how pitiful Oswald looked. “How are you?”

“Oh, I'm fine, really. But who cares about me, anyways? How are you? Good, I hope.”

“Oswald… yes, I've been fine as well. The GCPD is chaotic per usual. Doctor Tompkins has been on my nerves as of late though, claimed I killed Ms. Kringle and officer Dougherty.”

“Well did you?

Ed gave Oswald a wink and quick smile. bringing out a weak laugh from Oswald. Though this laugh was different. Where Oswald’s usual laugh was nasally and full of joy, this laugh was empty and lifeless, like a husk of man.

“Though that's a minor discrepancy at the moment. There's been a man on the loose, killing innocent civilians. And he does this with a quick-acting freezing agent that is compressed into a type of reverse-vacuum cleaner styled gun, all to save his wife, which was futile in the end as both of them are dead. But how fascinating it was, Oswald! A victim, frozen solid without a trace of a pulse, suddenly defrosts and is alive and well. Simply genius!”

As Ed kept rambling on about the case, Oswald rested his head on on hand and nodded absently as he listened. He was surely listening, yet he looked more focused on something else in his mind. Ed’s rant fizzled out as he remembered that Oswald looked like something just pulled out of a grave. Clearing his throat, he put both of his arms on the small bit of table space he had between himself and the glass.

“Are you alright, Oswald?” Ed asked, “I mean… how are things here? Are you being treated for your, um, insanity?”

“Oh, y-yes, things are nice here,” Oswald careful replied, “I have my own room, fed three meals a day, and my inmates are great fun. We’re always palling around, y-y’know; just yesterday Lenny taught me a new wrestling move, not that I would have any use for that, I’m too… weak.” The last few words caused Oswald’s tone to drop and to look away, but he looked Ed back in the eyes and gave a high-pitched laugh to make up for it. “If I could do that kind of damage, you wouldn’t see me needing Butch around. But, uh, that’s all in the past. Today, I’m all about the future, my friend! I’m a changed man!”

Pretending to buy into this bullshit was excruciating- there’s was something up with Oswald, but Ed couldn’t figure out what exactly was causing it. For now he had to pretend not to take concern to Oswald’s violently shaking hand on the phone and his plastic smile. “Is that so?” Ed said.

“Yes, this place is helping much.”

“I tried to send you some books to help alleviate the anxiety you must be feeling, being in such a strange place, but I was told that you are unable to accept gifts at the moment. Any reason for that that you are aware of?”

“They told me about that. The doctor says that outside items will ‘clog my mind’ and they want my mind to be solely focused on recovery for the moment.”

“I see. Have you gotten any other visitors since you’ve been here? Jim, perhaps. You two used to be quite close.”

“N...no.”

“Ah, I’m sorry for asking.”

“It’s fine. Did… Did Jim mention anything about what occurred between us?”

“Unfortunately not. He’s been dealing with his own issues as of late, it seems, with his pregnant fiance and his inner demons.”

Oswald scowled. “Good. He’s dead to me… But, I’m sure he would have done the same for me, right Ed? After all, we’re such good friends.”

Ed was taken aback by the dip in Oswald’s tone, but decided to ignore it for the time being. Perhaps he would talk to Jim about oswald later, if Jim wasn’t going to be in his usually moody state and bark at Ed to leave him alone and stop pestering him.

“I’ve placed lilies at your mother’s grave, as you requested me to,” Ed reported to Oswald, “I shall try to change them out next week.”

Oswald smiled, albeit a sad one, at this. “Thank you, Ed. My mother, her dear poor soul, may she rest eternally at peace in Heaven and watch over me. Heh… I do wonder if she really can see me from Heaven, here in this situation, a murderer and a criminal. What would she think of me now? Have I become something not even a mother could love?” Tears began to prick at his eyes, and he wiped them with the baggy sleeve of his Arkham uniform.

“Oswald…,” Ed reassured his friend, “I’m sure that despite this low point in your life, she would be extremely proud of you for remaining strong, as I am of you.” For the first time in probably ages, Oswald gave a genuine smile at Ed’s comment and laughed with joy. Even if Oswald was smiling, he still seemed unusually modest… a bit too modest.

“By the way,” Ed continued, “I assume that they are giving you therapy sessions, as this is a mental ward. How are those helping you?”

Oswald’s blood visibly froze at the mention of the therapy sessions. His eyes darted back at the several guards at the wall behind him and swallowed hard, knowing that Ed had figured him out by now, yet he still tried to play the innocent facade.

“O-Oh, yes, the t-therapy,” Oswald stuttered, “They’re… w-wonderful. Dr. Strange is a m-miracle worker- I have never felt s-s-so changed from such simple s-sessions. He is helping me tackle m-m-my issues h-head-on, and I feel born again. Oh Ed, I have never felt m-more alive!”

Ed gave a stern yet concerned look in an attempt to squeeze out any bit of truth of what kind of hell hole this place was from Oswald, but it was apparent it was no use. Whatever this place did to him, it was watching him closely and Oswald was terrified of the guards because of it. Oswald had grabbed his arm and was breathing heavily, yet still forcing the unnerving fake smile. Ed wished he could have held him right now to assure him that he wasn’t alone. Though before Oswald could have a full mental breakdown, a guard came up behind Oswald and signaled that his time was up, as well as unhooking Oswald’s handcuff and attaching it to his own wrist to transport him. Oswald didn’t do much to fight it, as he usually would’ve done if someone tried to boss around the King of Gotham.

Ed stood to his feet in a mixture of remorse, pity, and some kind of protective nature he didn’t know he had, and looked Oswald in the eyes. Oswald stopped in place and leaned closer to the plane of glass, phone still in his hand.

“Please, Ed… don’t leave me here,” Oswald pleaded in a whisper as he pressed his hand to the glass, ignoring the impatient guard. How such a mighty figure had fallen into such a sorry excuse for a person, as anyone would when everything they’ve worked for is gone. He was the pinnacle of an underdog, even if his story was paved by playing the system to carve a path to the top through blood and betrayal. And now here he stood, sickly-looking and submissive to the tortures he must be going through.

Ed hesitated, moving the lump in his throat, but returned the touch from the other side of the glass. “I… I’ll see you soon, my friend.”

Then Oswald had forcibly been handled into another room, and Ed was alone again, still holding the phone as Oswald’s last words haunted him.


End file.
